The ancients hunted here at the shores of a lake
nearly 12,000 years ago. In 1929, an amateur
archeologist discovered an ancient spear
point lodged in bone. I walk the mile long trail
down into the depths. Caliche, gravel,
larger rocks strewn by millennia. For
thousands of years Clovis, Folsom, and Portales
Man left remnants of their hunting life.
The scattered cottonwoods whisper in the wind,
timeless voices call me, beckoning.
Who were these people?
What did they look like?
Where did they come from?
In whose gods and goddesses did they believe?
Doubtless hunger drove them to this place of water
and plenty. Columbia Mammoths, giant sloths, dire wolves,
saber toothed cats gathered here for thousands of years.
The diggers found an obsidian spear head with a
bison whose horns spanned seven feet and
mammoths twice the size of elephants.
Saber toothed cats competed with these
ancient ancestors at this place, all driven by
hunger, thirst, and instinct. I wonder how
these people overcame danger, fear?
I walk the mile long path, stand in the shade
of these cottonwood trees , read the signs that
tell me what diggers found at specific spots along the trail.
The cottonwoods whisper to me. They
tell me ancient tales of hunger, strife, fear,
beauty, love, endurance. I hear the ancient voices
calling. They tell me ancient tales of woe, war,
weaponry, courage, and community. My
skin tingles strangely in the summer heat. Now
this land is dry, a desert, the water that sustained
teeming life evaporated in the crystalline air.
Twelve thousand years from now who will stand here?
Will this place exist? Will someone wonder the meaning
of our bones, who we were, what we believed?